


Tino's Word - Past and Present

by sorenwrites



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Gen, Magic, Mystery, Student AU, Viking AU, Vikings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 13:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15641256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorenwrites/pseuds/sorenwrites
Summary: Tino Väinämöinen is a college student in the United States. He just wants a normal university experience, but when mysteries and revelations rock his world, he has to overcome his problems and his own personal barriers. Can he survive his trials and tribulations?I do not own Hetalia. Characters belong to Himaruya Hidekaz.





	1. Prologue

The smell and sound of magic being worked filled the air. Clicking and groaning sounded as the magic twisted and bended and broke, its heavy aroma wafting through the air; it was intoxicating. Magic’s smell is wonderful: it smells of a rainy day, of cedar woods and of a clean, clear breeze rustling the trees’ needles.  
A hoarse, raspy voice chants in a rough language unheard, in its pure form, for nearly a thousand years. The pulsing glow of purple fills the room, runes meaning God knows what etched into wooden tablets hanging from the ceiling like dried fish. The tablets are dyed black.  
The chanting intensifies. It was aggressive but reverent.  
Reality shifts, clarifying itself like a photographer adjusting the lens of their camera. Everyone feels it, and for ten seconds there was widespread chaos as ley lines are temporarily visible, transparent lavender in color.  
The magician utters more words in the strange, forgotten language and everyone forgets again, a fog falling over the ley lines, humans–and enchanted immortals–are no longer able to see them. Perhaps once they did, but magicians like this one concealed them for many reasons. This magician’s purpose is one example of the many catalysts that finally made established magicians pull the trigger and let themselves fall to legend. Magic was, after all, dangerously permanent.  
The thing about magic is that it rips holes in reality and space time. Sometimes these holes are large and strong enough to stick an arm through and quickly grab the television remote on the other side of the living room. Others are extremely permanent and stable. Magicians, in the past, were often able to install a semipermanent base in them if needed. The rips were capable of surviving maybe one or two centuries if properly stabilized. In order to conceal his magic, the magician, who was called once Håkon, established his base just over twenty years before in one of the numerous holes at the conception of this time line.  
Holes typically hung in one place, but by manipulating space time one can move the hole to another location in, essentially, frog leaps. These “frog leaps” rocked the stabilizing magic in the tear. Thus Håkon found the most powerful of rips, which appeared in northern Greenland, and moved it all the way to continental North America. By revealing ley lines, Håkon could refortify the magical support beams of his magic study and secret hideout. This was done by drawing from a stream or well of pure power and using it to patch the cracks. He could only use the most pure and powerful of magic for it to work. Concealing, maintaining and stabilizing rips was a risky business indeed.  
Håkon did not intend for anyone to be badly hurt by his magic, but he already knew Björn’s immortality and longevity would not survive, nor his dependent character. Not the way Gunnar had molded this reality. He had come so close to ignoring Björn, Eirik and Magnus like Håkon had requested, and perhaps forgetting about them, but Gunnar disregarded these instructions. Håkon doubted Gunnar knew Björn would pay for his mistake with his life.  
Håkon sighed. He–Björn–was just collateral damage. Håkon was doing this to prevent inferior magic from disrupting set time lines and unstable, fluid realities. One immortal gone was no problem to him. There would be ripples in the pond, but the pond would still be there. If no action were to be taken, then there would be no pond left behind by Eirik’s magical scourge. Besides, it would not be Håkon’s heart that would ache when all of this was over, so for him it was win-win.  
His magic was not nearly as strong as Eirik’s, but it was certainly strong enough to put a stopper the champagne bottle. He had created so much trouble over that man–Magnus–than he was worth. Håkon felt more sympathy for Magnus than Eirik, despite Magnus living his days in a pleasant, idyllic Sicilian cottage, and not in Eirik’s prison. Eirik would spend the rest of his life serving as a merchant for the Hanseatic League with the urgent thought in the back of his mind that he must find Magnus–without knowing who Magnus was. Håkon knew it would drive Eirik mad, but judged Eirik completely deserved it.  
Eirik had been very unwise to be so unruly with magic. Magic was not a servant to man, but rather a cunning thief you had to catch and force a confession out of. Catching Eirik and making him confess had been particularly difficult, and creating his prison was even more so. It had been messy, but it was done.  
The magician thought bitterly how Eirik swore to protect magic and maintain integrity. He swore never to use it for personal gain. He remembered how Eirik helped Håkon take the oath himself, his proud smile making Håkon feel drunk with happiness in the moment. Håkon had been so young back then, it was so difficult now to imagine a time when Eirik and Håkon were happy to be in each other’s company. It was so rare that they could be with each other back then. Now it was a curse to have Eirik’s tired, dark, old, stone cold eyes set on him. He knew what Eirik was thinking. He was cursing him over and over and over again in his mind.  
Håkon wished he didn’t have to watch Eirik in such pain, but he had no other choice. Eirik had bestowed upon him the gift of magic, and Håkon had turned it back on him to rip him down. Eirik had asked for it. Håkon was brought comfort by the knowledge that it had been necessary, and his teacher’s sentiments in recent days had seldom held any reason at all. The chiding voice of a younger, more at peace, Eirik scolded him in the back of his head. You know you have the moral high ground, dillydoun. You can’t let him win and tear apart this reality because you felt bad for Eirik. He deserved this.  
He knew the voice was right. But he also heard Eirik’s voice saying dillydoun sweetly, smiling. He felt like a young boy again with Eirik doting over him and calling him sweet lullaby names. He missed that simple time, but those days were clearly long gone.  
Gone were the long days of sailing and eating fish around a campfire. Now hours dragged for Håkon, a minute seeming like a million years. He was always so tired from performing so much magic.  
Creating new realities was difficult and arduous, but for Håkon’s plan to succeed it was necessary.


	2. Chapter One

The sun quietly set behind the trees as Matthias Khøler poured a cup of lemonade for Tino. He handed it to him, a permanent smile plastered to his face. “Here you go,” he said.  
“Thanks,” Tino said, smiling back.  
“No problem, my dude,” he replied with his unusually high-pitched voice.  
It wasn’t that Matthias was nervous or anything. Matt, in contrary, was the chillest person ever, usually lounging around somewhere working through math problems or writing music history papers. Even when he was exhausted he was still pretty chill.  
Perhaps the word “dude” was the best way to describe him. He did look like he spent his days on a sunny California beach surfing and catching cute girls. Instead of this appealing way of life, Matt wore button ups, buttoned all the way to his neck, studied calculus and was (happily) engaged. Tino still couldn’t shake the idea of Matt surfing, though. It was hilarious to him.  
Not only was Matt the chillest man alive, he was also the clumsiest. So when Tino casually suggested that Matt try surfing for the sake of sating his vision for Matt, Matt laughed. “Where did you get that idea?”  
“Dunno,” said Tino. “You should though.”  
Lukas, who was sitting next to Tino and across from Matthias, laughed. “I think if I saw Matt surfing, I’d pray he didn’t fall and hit his head on a rock,” he said darkly, winking at Matthias. Matt smiled. “Me too,” he replied.  
Lukas was perhaps the most opposite one could be of Matthias. Lukas Bondevik was not chill. He was uptight and perfectionist. Tino was pretty sure Lukas had a stick up his ass, for real. Their love found a way, though.  
Later, Elizaveta smiled at Tino, sparking a conversation. She hadn’t spoken to him all evening. “I’m so glad midterms are over,” she said happily. “I’m pretty sure I failed my English paper. I didn’t even read A Midsummer Night’s Dream to the end.”  
“I know. I think my ass got kicked in Russian. Chinese is basically the only thing I had down,” Tino laughed sheepishly. “My GPA won’t take that bad of a hit because I did study, just probably not as much as I should have.”  
Elizaveta’s face fell as she said, “Oh my gosh, Spanish was so hard. You’re lucky you’re good at languages.”  
Gilbert leaned over from the other side of Elizaveta, hearing their conversation, and said, “I regret taking German.”  
“I took it in high school and didn’t do very well either, don’t worry,” said Tino, laughing.  
Despite there being actual snow on the ground, Matthias insisted on an outdoor picnic honoring the end of the stressful midterm exams. Tino’s had ended yesterday, but Berwald was still in class. It was a Saturday afternoon, and Berwald was probably somewhere sweating as he turned in a design paper. Admittedly, Tino had been disappointed that Berwald was not going to make the picnic, but there had been no other choices for what time people could get together. Maarten had insisted that he had to go to work, Elizaveta had tutoring, Natalya was tutoring and Lukas said he had a job interview with a lab. Thus Tino was left eating a questionable hotdog on a snowdrift, listening to Lukas and Matthias flirt with each other and Maarten arguing with his sister about her spending habits.  
Maarten’s sister was called Bella and she was very nice and pretty. She was also Tino’s girlfriend.  
Her friend Lucille sat next to her, staring into space. She was probably thinking about warmer weather. Tino was too. Or maybe she wasn’t, maybe Tino was just cold. Tino had grown up in Northern Europe, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get cold. He had worn a fleece jacket with layered sweaters, but had underestimated the power of wind.  
He didn’t notice when he was tapped on the shoulder by Lukas. He was deep in thought. Mostly about how much coffee he would drink when he got back to his dorm room.  
When Lukas finally brought Tino back to reality, he pulled his shoulder, wanting Tino to stand. He did, giving him a face that said what’s up? in a really very concerned way. Tino did not know Lukas very well, but they trusted each other. Lukas was very trustable.  
Lukas did not remove his hand from Tino’s shoulder. Despite Lukas literally radiating intimidation just from his resting bitch face, he was a really very warm person. His hand was ungloved and clearly cold.  
Lukas was one of those people that anyone would be comfortable curling up with under a blanket. He was likable that way. Matt always insisted that Lukas was never this way until the year he left for university, but somehow Tino doubted that. Lukas was intrinsically warm and welcoming–at least towards Tino.  
“Tino,” Lukas said, pushing him into a corner, out of sight of their other friends. “You have to promise not to tell anyone I said anything strange, okay?”  
“Yeah, sure”–Tino’s voice quivered–“what do you need?”  
He felt suddenly very self conscious in that corner, with Lukas talking very close to his face. Of course, it was fine, this was fine. It was just weird. Although Lukas was a bit strange, he had never demanded Tino to keep a secret like this. There had never even been a reason for him to ask Tino to not tell anyone anything. The way he said it also made it sound like Tino couldn’t tell anyone. As in, neither Matthias nor Berwald. And Tino told them almost everything.  
“Listen… if you feel weird, tell me. I’m… working on a project for school. I don’t want to freak anyone out, but you’re showing signs of what I’m looking for.”  
Tino panicked for a moment. “What–what do you mean?”  
“I would really appreciate if you could tell me if you smell something weird? Or if the water is off. Or color changes or, you know, everyone’s skin disappears. Stuff like that,” he says quietly. “Not that the last one will happen.”  
“Is this for music or chemistry?” asked Tino.  
“Chemistry,” Lukas said. “It’s something messing with perception and hallucinations. In order to ensure you’re okay… take this when things get weird.”  
He pressed a small violet capsule into Tino’s gloved palm. “What is it?”  
“It’s a medicine that helps you stop hallucinating. You seemed like you were earlier. Before lunch, I mean.”  
He had been–Tino had gotten one of those feelings where he should turn around, he had felt like he was bing watched. So he did. What he saw? There were two young boys in period clothing staring at him with wide eyes. He blinked in surprise, and then they were gone.  
“Shouldn’t I go to the doctor? And how the hell did you know that I was having… perception issues,” said Tino, his voice cracking as he realized how crazy Lukas was being.  
“Trust me. If–when–things go to shit, take it,” he said. Then he took Tino’s arm, and led him away from the building. He slipped a chain with a hollow rectangle charm into Tino’s hand on the way back. “Put that in there and don’t let it out of your sight,” he commanded, his voice quiet and urgent.  
Tino began to edge away from Lukas, very sure that Lukas was off his rocker. “Yeah, sure, thanks Lukas,” he said shakily.  
“One more thing,” Lukas said, standing static in the shadow of the building. “If there’s a man who approaches you, and who looks like me… do not trust him. No matter what he says.”  
His eyes were dark, and he promised to see Tino back at the picnic. Tino swore to himself that he would not take it. It seemed a little shady to him.


	3. Chapter Two

Later that night, after the strange meeting with Lukas, Tino lay in bed staring at the holes on the ceiling. There must have been a thousand tiny pin pricks on the ceiling tiles, and Tino counted each one in his mind. One-hundred-and-forty-three. He fingered the chain around his neck containing the pill, the only thing convincing him he wasn’t crazy. His experience with Lukas had not been a hallucination in itself.  
Tino had been eager to leave his friends after that. He desperately wanted to recount what had happened to Berwald and Matthias, but Tino didn’t tell either of them. If he set up a meeting, he knew Lukas would find out some way or another that Tino was planning to meet both of them. Lukas would have kept Matthias home or given Berwald extra science homework. (Lukas was Berwald’s teacher’s assistant in chemistry.) Tino didn’t completely trust Lukas right in that moment, but he trusted Berwald to understand, and Matthias to interpret Lukas’s actions and words.  
Speaking of Berwald, Berwald was now shining a flashlight into Tino’s eyes. “Tino,” he whispered, “we must go outside! It is snowing so hard!”  
Like Tino, Berwald was not from America. He was from northern Europe, and he had most certainly seen enough snow for a lifetime, yet it never ceased to entertain him. Tino was very sure Berwald was in love with the snow. He could not imagine why Berwald had left Scandinavia, but then again, Tino was never quite sure exactly why he had. Tino didn’t plan much to return, either. He supposed he didn’t like it much. Sometimes it was nice to speak Swedish with him for the throwback, though.  
He agreed, and pulled on a sweatshirt over his cotton t-shirt. He wore sweatpants bearing the logo of his university on the side of the pant leg. He felt the discomfort settle over him, dull, painful and persistent, but he ignored it.  
Berwald wore a heavy brown coat over his clothes. He hadn’t changed into pajamas on account of it only being ten o’clock, and that it was Saturday night. He excitedly checked the weather forecast, smiling as he saw how much snow would fall from the sky. “I hope we get a blizzard! Would they cancel classes?”  
Tino smiled tiredly, saying, “You’ve been here longer than I have.”  
“Oh, yeah!” He seemed to suddenly remember that Tino was a year below him. “You know snow well, though?”  
“You know I do,” Tino said, shivering as he stepped out into the dormitory hallway. It was cold, and the heater was clearly having a hard time. Tino knew it did this every winter, since it had happened last year. Recently his university had blown all of its money on a new science hall, and thus the boys’ dormitory was left to become an actual icicle.  
The corridor was barren for the most part, with a thin carpet covering the cold concrete floor and thick concrete walls painted beige. There were no students milling about. Most of them were either out or locked in their dorm rooms, probably watching Netflix.  
Berwald and Tino treated themselves to a ride in the elevator, since both of them did not feel like using the stairs. Inside the elevator was another story: hundreds of brightly colored advertisements hung plastered to the walls, someone had drawn obscene Sharpie drawings and there were at least a few messages proclaiming love.  
The elevator pleasantly announced that they had arrived at the ground floor. Berwald ran across the slippery floor in his leather ankle boots, yanking the door open and sliding out into the cold. Tino laughed and followed, jogging through the closing glass door. He tracked Berwald’s footprints through the heavy snowfall and found him standing in a dark part of the snowed-over garden.  
“Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked.  
Berwald had the most beautiful smile when he showed it off. It wasn’t often that he smiled like that, even as he was a fairly upbeat person.  
Snow fell into his golden hair, flakes sticking to his short sideburns and unshaven, stubbly face. The faint light from a nearby lamppost illuminated half his face, the deep blue of his eyes illuminated, rimmed with cyan. His glasses caught the light as well, their silver frame glinting yellow. He was very handsome, thought Tino, with those cheekbones and his messy hair, flakes of snow drifting through the–he stopped his thoughts right here. He would not have those thoughts, not tonight anyway. He wanted to keep Berwald firmly as a friend–and besides, Berwald was the most heterosexual person Tino knew, maybe besides Bella.  
Tino thought about his issue in that half light, watching Berwald’s hair slowly become white, almost as if he were eighty years old.  
The thing was, Tino had never told anyone except Matt about who he was. Not even Berwald, his best friend and close confidante. Even though Berwald came from a liberal country, Tino worried about how he would react to living with a queer person.  
Tino was a bisexual transgender man. He was also nonbinary, which he equated to his being a demiboy. He knew it was complicated, and that most people would react negatively to it, so he kept it to himself.  
It was such a good time to come out to Berwald. It had been on his mind for a while, too. He had planned what to say. If only he could just open his mouth, then maybe the words could spill out on their own–  
“Tino,” Berwald said, interrupting his train of thought. “Are you okay? You seem quite troubled.” His smile, by then, was gone, and he looked worried.  
Tino smiled at him, realizing he had been frowning. He tried his best to sound calm. “Of course.”  
Berwald’s eyes widened with realization, and Tino braced for the worst. He had the look on his face that everyone else had had when they had figured it out. Even Matt had had the same expression. Had he been so obvious? “Oh, I know!”  
“You do?” his voice shook for the second time that day.  
“You want ice cream!” he exclaimed, taking Tino’s hand. “You’ve been so stressed lately, and you haven’t fed your sweet tooth!”  
He felt a sigh of relief go through him. He didn’t know. And what Berwald had said was true–Tino did have a sweet tooth.  
He dragged Tino into the sidewalk, and kept Tino’s hand as he dragged him a block away from the dormitories to a small ice cream shop. When they got to the counter, which, miraculously, had no line, Berwald dropped his hand, and ordered two orange sorbets. Berwald really liked the orange flavor, and Tino found it pretty good. His favorite was definitely mint, though.  
They sat on a snowy park bench a bit away from the shop, listening to the cars drive by and the snow falling. Berwald had refused to let him pay for the ice cream, insisting that it was his treat, then giggling at his pun. It had made Tino laugh at how Berwald had giggled at his own pun. Berwald always did things like that.  
Perhaps it was best to describe him as playful and mischievous, but in a way that was specific to him. It was fairly often that he made bad jokes like that one.  
As they rested on the bench, they let a thick silence fall over them both. Tino thought about the picnic, and he again found his cold hand hovering at his throat with the intention of toying with the chain. He put his hand back down and thought about what Lukas had told him. He couldn’t tell anyone. Perhaps revealing the lead necklace would lead to Berwald asking what it was.  
Tino had concealed it in his sweatshirt so as not to draw attention to it. Berwald was into fashion, so if he saw the extremely masculine Tino Väinämöinen wearing a delicate feminine chain around his neck he would ask questions. Tino’s thoughts then returned to the violet capsule hidden in the charm of the long necklace, contemplating whether or not to tell Berwald.  
There were so many things he needed to tell Berwald, too many for a lifetime, but did not know if he would ever have the courage to tell him anything at all. He felt as though perhaps he were almost foreign to Berwald. He knew Tino had lived in Finland, that Tino liked candy and that he had a girlfriend named Bella, but none of this made Berwald truly know him.

 

“Tino,” said Berwald quietly, moments later, out of the blue. “Do you think everything will be all right?”  
He froze somewhat in his half of the bench. “What do you mean? Of course things will be okay.”  
Berwald’s quiet eyes bore into the side of his head. “How can you be sure?”  
“Berwald, what’s going on?” asked Tino, concerned. “Is something wrong?”  
“I just… I don’t… I can’t tell you, you wouldn’t understand,” he whispered, his voice almost as hushed as the falling snow.  
Tino furrowed his eyebrows. “Tell me,” he said. “I promise I won’t judge you or make fun of you. You’ve got my word.”  
He shook his head. “I–I don’t know if I can put this in words properly.” He sighed. “I mean… I’m not afraid you you not believing me, I just don’t know how you could ever benefit from knowing it.”  
“I would benefit from knowing what’s bothering you, you know. Spit it out,” Tino said, smiling at the last part.  
“I don’t feel real,” said Berwald staring into the snowy ground, his cheeks raw and red from the cold. In his fingers he fiddled with the small plastic spoon from his sorbet. “I don’t remember my childhood, like it never even existed at all. I feel like I’m fading, like the guy animating me turned down the opacity on my layer. Sometimes I can see places I’ve never known, and people I’ve never seen before. I don’t feel like me, I feel like nothing’s right inside.”  
His voice by then was a whisper barely audible, and Tino had to lean in to hear him. “Of course you’re you,” Tino said softly. “Who else could you be other than the wonderful Berwald I know you to be? You’re so curious and creative and persistent, I can’t imagine you being a knockoff Berwald. I know sometimes things hurt, but you have to believe in yourself. And if it’s any consolation… I can’t remember my childhood at all either. All I remember is my father leaving my mother. It was awful, I think.”  
“I’m sorry,” Berwald replied, leaning back in the bench, staring at the sky through the snow-laden trees. “That sucks.”  
“It’s no problem. I was six.”  
There was another silence that followed Tino’s words. It was then that Tino realized how cold he was. “We should head back.”  
It was almost midnight by then. They walked soundlessly back to the dorm, their arms brushing each other. Tino felt a peculiar warmth inside. He and Berwald hadn’t been this honest with each other in a while. When they reached the dorm, Tino gave Berwald a hug, then dozed off.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING - ABUSE MENTION TW

SUBSTANCE ABUSE + LIGHT CHILDHOOD ABUSE MENTION TW

It was so warm outside, you could fry an egg on the sidewalk, for real. Ohio freaking sucked sometimes. It sucked even more than usual when you lived in a small Republican town on a fucking farm.  
So mostly it sucked. Or did, until the summer Lukas moved in “next door.” But like, four miles away because again, Matthias lived basically in the country. Maybe not four. Maybe half a mile. Whatever.  
There was a lot of gossip, especially amongst teenagers. A lot of people were saying he was really weird. There was never anyone new. He had never met the guy, but Matthias liked weird. When you lived in a small midwestern town, weird was a really good thing. Weird was good because when you’re queer in a conservative area, you’re weird. Everyone knows you’re weird. You’re just intrinsically weird. Sometimes you look really cis, and even very, very straight passing, but you’re still weird. From a young age you’re alienated–people stop becoming friends with you when you’re weird. After a while you figure it out–you’re gay, you’re trans, you’re aromantic–and you hate yourself, but then you find your people. It’s cake after that. Well, kind of. Minus actual homophobia and internalized homophobia. But cake, right? Everyone loves cake.  
It was very often someone would say something homophobic or sexist or whatever at school, and his mother would say something racist at the dinner table regularly. Matthias couldn’t say much. If he did his mom would probably leave the room and turn on Fox News instead of listening to him.  
Matthias couldn’t quite believe his luck when his mom mentioned their new neighbors. She was weird-averse, and not only did teens gossip, but moms did as well.  
Matthias’s mom looked at him from across the breakfast table, and said one quiet morning, and said, “Matt, how would you feel if we had our new neighbors over? I’m sure you’d love to meet them–I talked to Ms. Bondevik on the phone, and she has a son your age.”  
He nodded, and said, “Yeah, of course.”  
She smiled as she stood up to call Ms. Bondevik back.

Lukas looks at Matthias from across the room. Matthias is leaned back in a reclining chair, holding his phone in his right hand. He was scrolling through Twitter. Matt was always scrolling through Twitter. “What are you doing?” Lukas asked, even though he already knew.  
“I have witnessed so many memes with these eyes, Bondevik,” Matt said tiredly.  
“Give me your phone,” Lukas said, his hand outstretched, beckoning the cellphone. He knew Matthias had had entirely too much screen time. He was like this whenever he had to correct more math tests than what was healthy.  
He grumbled and handed over his phone. “I was talking to Maarten,” he protested, but knew he had already lost. Lukas gave him a look. Not even talking to Maarten was a good enough excuse for Lukas.  
He predicted Matt would become either grumpy, somewhat belligerent or reserved and depressed if he kept idly fiddling with his phone like that. Matthias was a drunk without liquor when it came to his phone. Only three people in Matt’s life actually knew it, Lukas, Bella Coppins and Maarten Maes. Lukas was fairly sure that Matt would resort to either alcohol or drugs during his lifetime, but despite his confidence, Lukas sincerely hoped he was wrong. Lukas saw himself in Matthias, and perhaps it was just a little bit frightening watching Matt’s shit show and feeling like that would be him in a decade.  
Twelve years old and depressed, probably like Matthias. Lukas had never asked, it always seemed sensitive to him. They were all too similar to each other. Lukas supposed Maarten was as well–no father, weird family situation, unclear mother relationship, the great possibility of alcoholism. It was not often that either of them drank. It was easy to see how both of their habits could go downhill, though.  
The origin of Lukas’s mental health issues was not apparent. So much of his childhood had been shitty, so his life as a broke grad student living with his fiancé in a shabby student apartment was a dream.  
His mother lost her job the same year as his father separated from her. Lukas was already growing up in a somewhat hostile home–from a very young age he knew he was quite different. Lukas always thought his mother hated him. Maybe she had. She had been warm towards him on several occasions, but these were far and few between.  
It did not take much time for him to figure out that he liked not only women, but men as well. On an online forum he found a term that really clicked with him. Since the tender age of fourteen he identified as pansexual, and managed to survive two or three years under the radar as a straight boy, or until he met Matthias and Maarten.  
Lukas’s brother was probably less than straight as well, but they never really connected over that shared trait. Emil hadn’t really lived long enough for Lukas to see him come out, anyway. They hated each other. Emil never plainly called Lukas his brother. Emil’s father was not Lukas’s, thus Emil grew up in another timezone, another country, another continent, in another language.  
Their mother was European, and Lukas’s father had been half Native American, although it was not apparent in Lukas. Emil’s father had been and Icelander. Lukas liked America, but Emil seized every opportunity to express his distaste for the United States, despite living in the South, which was nice, and had better weather than Iceland. At least it seemed nice to Lukas.  
Emil often expressed his distaste for their mother, Lukas or America in a harsh tongue that Lukas could hardly understand. Lukas couldn’t tell if it was his mother tongue or another language Emil spoke that their mother could understand. He would spit an insult, and storm to his room. Lukas’s mother would then sit on the sofa in the living room and chain smoke.  
She would mutter things in a language Lukas understood, but no longer could speak. Sometimes she hurt Lukas with her words, either in English or his forgotten mother tongue. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t English. He understood. Unwanted. Devil. Trouble. That seemingly stopped, however, when they moved to a nondescript town in Ohio, in the United States.  
Emil hated it there too, and while it could have been hell all over again, Lukas did something extraordinary, something quite unusual for him–he made a friend. His friend felt exactly as he did, and so did his new friend’s friend, and soon Lukas had two more friends than he had before.  
But then everything went to shit when they found his brother’s body in a river five miles from their house. Emil had been murdered by an unknown assailant. The blame was pinned on his friend, with whom he was suspiciously close, then on Lukas himself. Lukas was exonerated, but his mother had never forgiven him.  
Speaking of his mother, he hadn’t spoken to her in six years. He should probably get on that.What a funny joke.

 

The smell of lavender was heavy in the air later that day. Matthias was texting Maarten, recounting his hilarious slip up an hour earlier. His mother had been straightening her hair, and said to Matthias, “Matt, the straightener is broken. What did you do to it?”  
“I used it on me,” he said quietly.  
“What?” she said, looking at him, confused. “What did you say?”  
“Nothing,” Matthias said quickly. “I tried to straighten my hair for a dare with Maarten, and I didn’t know how to use it properly.”  
“Ah.”  
Maarten thought this entire encounter was hilarious, and told him so. But then when Matthias tried to text him back, Maarten refused to answer, only replying “lol” and offering no council. Matthias tried to call him, but Maarten only answered with, “Go be your gay self, honey,” and hung up. Matthias assumed this was about his upcoming encounter with the possibly queer Bondevik guy.  
When the doorbell rang a half hour later, Matthias stood awkwardly in the kitchen, twiddling his fingers, waiting for his mother to open the door and make his awkward introduction for him. When she didn’t, and the doorbell rang again, she yelled from the other side of the house, “Open the door!”  
Matthias did, and smiled shyly at the three Bondeviks. The mother, Ms. Bondevik, smiled at Matthias, and said in a thick accent, “Hi, you must be Matthias.” She shook his hand.  
Matthias’s eyes floated towards her sons, and immediately sought out Bondevik. Ms. Bondevik laid a hand on her younger son’s head, and said, “This is my son, Emil,” and then, mentioning to the taller Bondevik son, “this is Lukas.”  
Lukas was tall, his pale face sharp. His hair was curly and blond and overgrown, and his eyes were dark. Matt couldn’t tell whether Lukas was miffed or angry with him. He very much hoped they would hit it off because Lukas was sending some serious signals. Sweatshirt, skinny jeans, Converses–yeah, this guy probably wasn’t “normal”–straight. Cis.  
“Hey,” Matthias smiled, and awkwardly waved at them.  
“Is your mother here?” asked Ms. Bondevik.  
Matthias was beginning to turn around to fetch his mother, but she was right behind him. “Hi!” she said, reaching out to shake Ms. Bondevik’s hand. She looked from Ms. Bondevik to her sons, and smiled. “Come in!”


End file.
